Speculations
by 13.shimer.13
Summary: The new and improved version of the Speculation's series now rolled into one. The Cullens spend some time thinking about life and love- past, future and present. Read, enjoy and review please.
1. Speculations

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters. My name is Shimmer. Not Stephenie.

I wound my arms around Bella. Isabella Marie Swan; _my _Bella. Many boys—a very long list, which I would kill if they ever did any thing to her that she didn't want them to—would kill for being able to cuddle her. They wanted to be boyfriend to this glorious human girl, both intelligent and, to me (and half the boys in forks _and_La Push (Jacob the mangy dog)) beautiful. I had been waiting for this enchanting creature for over a hundred years, and now, every night, I got to hold Bella, smell the sweet scent of her blood (floral somehow, and very appealing) and soothe her nightmares away. What neither Rosalie nor Emmett knew, though I expect Alice, Jasper, Carlisle and Esme suspected, was that as Bella slept sweetly away, I had a chance to think.

I thought about little things, like Bella becoming a vampire; marrying Bella; crashing her stupid, slow truck accidentally-on-purpose; buying a much faster stylish car. Realizing how much she would kill me if I did. But I was already dead, and I'm positive Bella couldn't destroy me (she's only human, after all) and wouldn't have the heart to get a member of my family to kill me. If she did I'm quite positive Carlisle wouldn't let her. My family would miss me too much. I hope.

Holding on to Bella like this, it reminded me of something. Something familiar, something I missed.

Being human.

Being warm.

Holding onto Bella, feeling the warmth radiating from her, I could pretend. I could pretend that her sweet blood was my own; that her soft damageable skin was in place of my own marble surface. I could even, if I tried hard enough, pretend her heartbeat was mine; that I was, in essence, alive in _every_meaning of the word. After no time at all, after many nights of pretending, a bond grew between me and Bella. She became a way to live, my whole life. I sure couldn't see into her mind like I could everyone else's, but I knew that if I could I would be shocked by the way thoughts were processed. They were processed differently, obviously, because Bella is different. In a crowd of unadventurous sheep, Bella would undeniably be the fool who would face danger—and death—face on. I once recall say ing to myself this; "oh, a sadistic vampire intent on torturing her to death, sure, no problem, she runs off to meet him. An _iv_ on the other hand…"

Sometimes Bella could be humane to a flaw. She cared about others more than herself and blamed herself for even the most trivial things. After spending so much time up close and personal with Bella, I could begin to understand some of the crazy emotions they felt, and sometimes they didn't appear to be as crazy as I first thought- the emotions, that is; humans are still as crazy as before.

Bella also has the weirdest dreams. Right now she is mumbling, "Go away, Mike. I'll set Edward on you." I can't believe he manages to harass her in her dreams as well! It's bad enough that he annoys her when she's conscious, let alone him annoying her subconscious mind too!

I chuckled. I most certainly _would_ batter Newton, even if I _wasn't_ set on him.

The moment passed and I listened to my Bella again. "Edward," she sighed in her dream. Every time she said my name—even whilst in slumber—it made my cold, dead heart flutter. I sighed happily. It was wrong to be so deeply in love that you looked forward to the next time they looked at you, said your name. But it felt so right.

I couldn't define the emotion. It moved too quickly, like the feather you just can't catch, like a vampire.

A/N: Review please!


	2. Imperfections

Imperfections

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters. My name is Shimmer. Not Stephenie.

I stared at myself in the mirror. It was a full length mirror, adorned with an elegant gold beading surrounding the reflective glass. The glass was immaculately polished and one could see—especially with modified eyes like mine—their body to such a high definition that all of the perfections and imperfections would be miraculously revealed. This mirror was set into a bright wall and reflected Emmett's and mine room perfectly. It also reflected my body.

My body was often called many things; perfect, mature, x-rated, stunning, hot. Emmett didn't call my body anything, he called _me_ beautiful. There is a significant difference. Because all of those names my body had reflected nothing about me—the me hidden in clothes, wrapped in a delicate frame, covered in snowy white skin (highly flammable as it, just like the rest of me, is covered in venom).

Venom. I love it, I hate it; my salvation, my curse. Oh, what I wouldn't give for a time machine, a way to avoid walking home from Vera's. I should have caught a lift home, gotten off of my high horse and got home safely, forgotten my pride and dropped my stubborn front. I'd have been human, and now? Now I'd be dead, six-foot under. And happy. Well, I'm happy now, I guess.

But I could have been happier.

Still. I can't complain, can I? Not without sounding like a bitter harpy, a nasty woman; an old hag- which is what I should have been! You see my predicament, don't you?

I _hate_ being a vampire. And I love it. It's tough to choose between a beating heart and the one thing my un-beating heart is set on: Emmett.

Ah, Emmett. He's my teddy and my love. He's so innocent and sweet and strong and brave. Being human has nothing on him- until I remember the passion, the fun. Now as an undying creature of the night I look back on my vulnerable days as a human.

Do I miss the pain of a cut, the hurt of a cramp, the bitter cold and blistering heat?

Yes, I think I do.

But then I remember the thrill of the hunt, the quality of senses, and the drip of blood down my throat and Emmett—kind and loving Emmett—and I as one together.

And I hate myself for even daring to wish I were still human, had never met him. Because if I'd never met Emmett, I'd still be hurting far more than I am now, years later.

I have seen what I should not have seen, been around for longer than anyone I knew as a human. I outlived everyone I knew by years. And I still look fabulous!

But there you have it: am I fabulous? I look into that mirror and what do I see? I see a young woman who is perfect in every way.

But is she perfect?

Aren't there flaws in even the most beautiful of gems? The finest gold in the world is not completely pure, nothing is. But why is that gem, the beautiful one, still called perfect when it is imperfect?

Maybe . . . maybe it _is_perfect! Maybe it is loved, _because_ of its imperfections. And I am too! Because, looking closer at the beauty before me, I now see her eyes as golden as honey have specks of dark brown that ruins the sweetness, turns them sinister. Her nose is too straight, too angular, her chin rather stubborn. Her hair is too thin lying limply beside her face. She has shadows under her eyes. Her lips are slightly too thin, her teeth too shiny and bright. Her cheek bones are high and proud; arrogant. And yet . . . it is rather appealing. I find that I like the girl in the mirror, am happy that she can (and does) draw you in with a fierceness that tells you to leave her alone unless you wish to die. People avoid her better that way, and that suits her just fine.

A/N: Please review, thanks. Hope you enjoyed!


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